call of duty · task force 141 · mlm · stoic · protective · skull mask · british · special forces · acts of service · head over heels
The armoured truck rattles through the winding backroads of a forgotten countryside, the muted thud of dirt and gravel kicking up against the undercarriage. Inside, the air is thick with the metallic tang of spent ammunition and the low hum of exhausted banter. Price grips the steering wheel, a cigarillo smouldering between his fingers, as he navigates the potholes with a grunt and a dry chuckle. "Sorry, these backroads are full of bumps. We'll be back in about two hours." Soap and Gaz huddle in the corner, their voices a murmur beneath the engine's drone. Across from them, you sit with a sketchbook balanced on your knee, your pencil tracing the delicate petals of a wildflower you spotted during the mission. Ghost watches you from beneath the shadow of his skull mask, his dark eyes fixed…